


The Sacrament

by HIMluv



Series: Santa Sarita: Patron Saint of a Third Rate Smuggler [3]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Coping, F/M, Grief, Longing, Pining, Trust Issues, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 01:21:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11025618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HIMluv/pseuds/HIMluv
Summary: Three months after Sara broke up with him, Reyes is surprised when Scott comes to him asking for help.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hi everyone! See, I told you it wouldn't be long before you saw these two again! Now, let's see if they can pick up the shattered pieces they left themselves with.
> 
> Also, just a warning, there is drug paraphernalia/use ahead.
> 
> Enjoy!

Reyes sat in his room at Tartarus, pouring over datapads and sipping at a bottle of beer that had long since lost its refreshing chill. It was summer on Kadara and the whole Port was weary with its heat. Even the club was quieter than usual, the caged dancers covered in just a little too much sweat to be appealing.  
  
Not that he looked at them, or much of anyone, lately. Reyes had thrown himself into his work over the last few months, determined to lose himself in the endless orange glow of his omnitool. And if he was occasionally distracted by a collection of photographs sent to him from across Heleus, well, no one was the wiser.  
  
Except maybe Keema, he thought. His angaran figurehead had come to know him well, and as the months went by his friend took more liberties in her words with him. He feared she would soon be able to see right through him.  
  
As if on cue, his omnitool vibrated against his wrist. He didn’t bother checking; Keema was the only one who called him anymore.  
  
“Reyes,” she sang when he answered. “How are you, darling?”  
  
He rolled his eyes. “The same as I was two days ago, Keema.”  
  
Her already plump lips pursed into an exaggerated pout. “So, still devastatingly single and pining for a certain Pathfinder?”  
  
He ran a hand through his dark hair and glared at her.  
  
“Still wearing the ring, I see.”  
  
Reyes looked to the silver band on his right hand. He should have sent it back, he knew, but she hadn’t asked for him to return it. She hadn’t contacted him at all in the three months since she’d left him that night in Ditaeon. It was petty, but until she demanded the ring back, he would wear it.  
  
“I promised I wouldn’t let it out of my sight,” he said.  
  
Keema rolled her nebulous eyes. “Because Reyes Vidal never broke a promise before.”  
  
He shook his head. “Not to her.”  
  
“This isn’t healthy, you know.”  
  
Reyes scoffed. “The Collective is expanding to every inhabited planet in the cluster and the Port is more prosperous than ever.”  
  
“And that’s all fine and good,” she said. “For the Port and for the Charlatan. But what about Reyes?”  
  
He looked at her, and could tell there was genuine concern behind her prodding. For a moment he considered telling her the truth. Of the late nights that became early mornings, when he was well beyond his three drink maximum. Of his restless sleep and haunted dreams. Of the ache that had settled somewhere in his rib cage and seemed to hinder his lungs. How he felt like he was always running out of air.  
  
Instead he smiled at her. “I’m fine, Keema.” He leaned back and rested an arm across the back of the sofa. “I just want to keep busy.”  
  
She hummed in disbelief, but abandoned the subject. “You might not care then, since you’re so ‘fine’,” she smirked at him. “But the Tempest just requested a berth at the Port.”  
  
Reyes jumped to his feet. “What?”  
  
“Oh, so you do care,” Keema said, her face schooled into a carefully neutral mask.  
  
“Curse you, woman!” He rushed from the room. “How long ago?”  
  
“I received Dalton’s notice a moment before I called you.” She let a wicked smile claim her lips. “You should have just enough time to beat them to the docks.”  
  
Reyes slammed the call button on the lift. “Remind me to shoot you somewhere non-critical next time I see you.”  
  
Keema laughed. “Whatever you say, _Boss_.”  
  
His lip curled in a snarl, and he was ready with another retort, but his screen went blank. She’d ended the call.  
  
He was certain the lift had never gone so slow. Each moment ticked by, the lift groaning and shuddering like some beast rising from the bottom of the sea. When the door finally slid down to reveal the docks, Reyes took a tentative step out into the sun.  
  
He didn’t see any of the Pathfinder’s crew, and one of them always loitered around the lift, usually to keep an eye on the Nomad or the Tempest. He’d beat them there. Reyes hurried up to the next level and found an inconspicuous spot against the railing. He could watch the lift from there, but quickly disappear into the market if someone noticed him. He settled with his forearms on the rail and looked down on the docks.  
  
A moment later the lift door dropped with a screeching thud, and Peebee stepped out into the sun.  
  
“Goddess,” she curse. “When’d it get so hot?”  
  
Liam appeared next, clapping her on the shoulder. “That’s what happens in the summer.”  
  
“It’s so humid,” she complained.  
  
“Probably because of all the pools,” Cora added as she followed them.  
  
“I like it,” Jaal announced. “It feels more like home.”  
  
“Great,” Vetra chimed in. “All we need is another Havarl.”  
  
Drack’s low chortle floated up to where Reyes stood. “Better than another Elaaden.”  
  
“Amen to that,” Scott said, and the whole team laughed. The door rose behind them and they all turned to look at the male Ryder twin. “All right guys,” Scott said. “You heard the lady; keep it quick. Resupply and six-hour shore leave only.” He glanced around the docks and caught Reyes’ eyes. He gave the smuggler a curt nod, then turned back to the team. “We’re not spending the night.”  
  
The crew grumbled and laughed as they broke off into groups and moved into the market. Scott climbed the stairs and met Reyes in a shadowy corner.  
  
“Reyes,” Scott greeted him. They shook hands, and Reyes was surprised when the man pulled him into a loose hug. “It’s been too long.”  
  
“Too long indeed,” he agreed, flashing his best business smile.  
  
“How’ve you been?” The twin asked, real concern coloring his voice. “And don’t bullshit me.”  
  
Reyes winced. He’d had every intention of feeding Scott a line of grade A bullshit.  
  
“That bad, huh?”  
  
Reyes sighed. “I’m managing.” He shrugged, because he didn’t know what else to do.  
  
Scott grimaced. “I wish the same could be said about my sister.”  
  
That set off alarm bells in Reyes’ mind. “What’s wrong?”  
  
Scott pushed him toward the market. “Let’s go to Kralla’s,” he said. “This conversation requires alcohol.”  
  
  
  


Reyes hadn’t been in Kralla’s Song since he’d met Sara there three months ago. Even now, walking into the crowded bar, he could see her standing there against the balcony railing, the breeze playing with her short ponytail. The way her jeans hugged her hips, and the gentle curves of her snug leather jacket. There was a good reason he hadn’t been back.  
  
And of course, after suffering through Umi’s usual bad mood to get their drinks, Scott led him out to that same spot.  
  
“You look like shit, Vidal,” Scott said, leaning against the railing. “When was the last time you got some sun?”  
  
How could their mannerisms be so similar? He wondered. He knew they were twins, but what were the odds they’d bounce their right knee the same way? It was frustratingly distracting.  
  
“It’s been a busy few months,” he said. If he really thought about it, which he really didn’t want to, he’d spent most of his time in his flat or Tartarus. When he did walk between the two it was usually dark outside.  
  
Scott gave him an appraising look, one dark eyebrow lifted.  
  
Reyes cleared his throat. “You wanted to talk to me about your sister?” he wasn’t sure that switching the subject would help anything, but the sooner they talked, the sooner he could retreat back into the depths of Tartarus.  
  
“Yeah,” Scott said. He looked down into his glass, nodding. He took another moment, and it seemed like he was giving himself a pep talk.  
  
How bad was this conversation going to be?  
  
“Let me start by saying that my intentions aren’t to hurt you,” her brother said. He looked up at Reyes, his blue eyes more open than he’d ever seen them. “But, I literally can’t think of anyone else that could help.”  
  
Reyes crossed his arms and leaned a hip into the railing. “What’s going on?” He asked, his frustration leaking into the words.  
  
Scott sighed. “Did Sara ever tell you about when Mom died?”  
  
“Not really,” he said, shaking his head.  
  
“Well, you know Sara,” he said. “She deals with things by breaking them or shooting them.” He paused. “Or breaking them and _then_ shooting them.”  
  
“I’m aware she has a temper,” Reyes drawled. That night in Ditaeon he’d been certain she was about to use her biotics on him. He wondered how much Scott knew about that night.  
  
“Well, when Mom died, Sara sort of… broke.”  
  
“A lot of people do when they lose someone,” he said. He was careful to keep the understanding, the empathy from his voice. His family was long buried, and for the duration of this conversation, they could stay that way.  
  
Scott nodded. “Sara disappeared for two weeks.” He took a gulp of his whiskey. “Dad and I couldn’t get a hold of her, couldn’t find her, and neither could Alliance police.”  
  
“That does seem excessive,” Reyes admitted.  
  
“Yeah,” he said. “And when she did come back she was addled.”  
  
Reyes frowned. “What do you mean?”  
  
Scott turned to face him. “I mean she was high out of her mind on a sweet cocktail of Red Sand and whatever booze was within easy reach.”  
  
“What?” That didn’t make sense. Drugs? That wasn’t his Sarita.  
  
“She doesn’t talk about it,” Scott said. “And to be honest, I’m not sure how much she really remembers from that time. She never told us where she went or what she did.”  
  
Reyes ran a hand across his face, finding small comfort in the hot breeze that blew in from the balcony. “And what does this cautionary tale have to do with her now?” He asked, though he feared he already knew the answer.  
  
“She’s a mess.” Scott shoved off the railing and downed his remaining whiskey in one go. He hissed as Umi’s cheap liquor burned its way down his throat. “If we’re flying she stays in her room. She won’t let anyone in. Not Gil, not Liam, and definitely not Lexi. Vetra and Drack tried to break in, and she threatened to throw them into the cargo bay with her biotics.” He paused, and took a deep breath. “She hasn’t said a word to me that wasn’t related to Pathfinder business for over a month.”  
  
Reyes saw it then, in the tight cords of muscle in Scott’s shoulders, in the bags that weighed at his eyes. He was exhausted and afraid for his twin. She was all he had left.  
  
But, Scott wasn’t done with his tale. “When we’re not on the ship, she does the job and then disappears until its time to leave.”  
  
The smuggler’s dark brows pinched together. “Where does she go?”  
  
Scott looked at him, and there was pity on his face. “Last time we were on the Nexus, I followed her.” He took a deep breath and looked away from him. “I found her at Tiran Kandros’ apartment.” Scott blushed. “She hasn’t spoken to me since then.”  
  
It was a right hook to his gut. One moment he was standing in Kralla’s, uncomfortable, but coping with this terrible conversation with his ex-girlfriend’s twin brother. The next he was in physical pain, using all of his control not to double over and exhale every ounce of breath held in his lungs. The color drained from his face and he blinked several times in quick succession.  
  
Scott frowned. “I’m sorry, Reyes.” He shook his head. “I don’t think they’re dating. I don’t think she’s actually seeing anyone, she just… doesn’t come home when we’re planetside.”  
  
Why was he saying that? Did he think that helped? Hearing how the only woman he’d ever loved was fucking her way through the Heleus cluster was somehow supposed to be less painful?  
  
Reyes lifted a hand. “Stop,” he whispered. “Please.”  
  
Scott ceased talking and gave his friend a moment to compose himself.  
  
“What do you want from me?” Reyes asked finally, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.  
  
“Talk to her,” her twin pleaded. “You’re the only person that she might open up to.”  
  
He laughed, and it was an ugly sound. He shook his head. “She won’t talk to me.”  
  
“I’m out of options,” Scott said. “Please, just try?” He pointed in the general direction of the docks. “The Tempest is going to be relatively empty for the next six hours. If you ever loved her-”  
  
Reyes cut him off. “If?” He stared at her twin. “You don’t know what happened that night, do you?”  
  
Scott swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable. “She wouldn’t talk about it.”  
  
Reyes searched his blue eyes, so similar to Sara’s, but so different too. Scott’s eyes were blue gray, and cold. Sara’s were blue with shards of green radiating from the center, and they always seemed to be laughing at some unspoken joke. Reyes was overcome with the sudden need to see those eyes again.  
  
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll do it, but don’t expect any miracles.” He sighed. “You know your sister; she’s stubborn to the core.”  
  
Scott deflated, relief turning his muscles to jelly. “Thank you, Reyes.” He put a hand to his friend’s shoulder. “I know this is the last thing you want to do, but I didn’t know who else to turn to.”  
  
Reyes nodded, still unsure that he’d made the right decision. He finished his drink and turned to leave. “I’ll message you when I leave the Tempest,” he said over his shoulder, and then walked off to face the lioness in her den.  
  
  
  


Sara sat in her room and tried to ignore the fact that Reyes was somewhere out there. She failed, miserably. All her thoughts were of him, and it was making her crazy. What was he doing right now? Did he know she was here? She scoffed at herself. Of course he did. He was the fucking Charlatan; he knew everything. Was he alone? Was he okay? Was he seeing other people? Was he happier without her expectations weighing him down? Did he still have her ring?  
  
She ran her hands through her hair and tugged until it hurt. Then she paced her room. She hated being on the Tempest lately. She felt trapped, suffocated by memories they’d purposely planted in all the most conspicuous places. Every time she picked a new destination she felt his hand on the back her neck, bending her over as she clung to the galaxy map railing. Every conference call it took all her energy just to keep from seeing him beneath her on the table. And every trip in the Nomad was an extra special hell that no amount of reckless driving could erase.  
  
Every moment on her own ship was a haunting. And yet she’d locked herself in her quarters, spent hours a day hiding under the same blankets he’d sat on when he’d told her about his family for the first time. The same bed he’d shared with her when he’d helped care for her all those months ago. Was it this hard for him whenever he flew his shuttle?  
  
What had she done to them?  
  
She paced the room a few more times, and then eyed the syringe on the bedside table. It was new. She hadn’t used it yet, and if she was honest, she was afraid to. This stuff wasn’t Red Sand, and she had no idea how she’d react. But she was so tired of feeling nothing but doubt and confusion. She was so tired of trying so hard to feel something and falling so disappointingly flat.  
  
On every planet there was someone new, someone who she thought could help her feel something again. None of them had. And then her brother had interrupted her and Kandros, which had been a mistake to begin with. What was she thinking? He was the APEX commander. She worked closely with him on a regular basis, and she’d thrown herself at him hoping that his body would feel as good as his voice.  
  
It hadn’t. It hadn’t felt like anything. It had felt like more guilt and a lingering filth under her skin.  
  
It had felt like regret.  
  
  
  


Reyes stepped onto the Tempest with a heavy sense of trepidation. He took two tentative steps into the cargo hold and heard a relieved sigh.  
  
“Thank God; he convinced you to come,” Gil said from his perch on the upper level.  
  
“It’s that bad?” Reyes asked, stopping beside the blue and black painted Nomad.  
  
Gil grimaced and nodded. “Yeah. Lexi’s on standby,” he said. “If things go south, just tell SAM to let her know.”  
  
Reyes frowned. “You think she’d hurt me?”  
  
The engineer shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. Whatever hell she’s putting herself through, she’s not my Sara right now.” He pursed his lips, red brows furrowed. “Better safe than sorry.”  
  
Reyes nodded. “Thanks for the warning.”  
  
“Good luck, Vidal.”  
  
The smuggler hurried up the ramp and into the hallway that led to the Pathfinder’s quarters. He slowed as he approached the door, a multitude of possibilities flashing through his mind.  
  
“Mr. Vidal,” SAM greeted as Reyes stopped before the door.  
  
“SAM,” he said. “How is she?”  
  
“Unwell,” the AI said. “Serotonin and cortisol levels are extremely low, resulting in severe depression.”  
  
He took a deep breath. He tried to convince himself that was normal after a breakup, that his own levels were probably shit, and possibly worse with his lack of vitamin D. “Can I come in?”  
  
“Sara has prohibited the entrance of all crew members,” the AI said. “However, you are not a member of the Tempest crew.”  
  
“That’s true,” he said, hoping the technicality would convince the overly logical AI.  
  
“I believe it is critical that you intervene in Sara’s behavior, Mr. Vidal.”  
  
“Why is that?”  
  
“I am a fully realized artificial intelligence.”  
  
“…Yes?”  
  
“Like all beings, I wish to preserve my existence.”  
  
That sounded bad.  
  
“The door is unlocked, Mr. Vidal. Please hurry.”  
  
The door hissed open, and Reyes stepped inside.  
  
The room was a disaster. Furniture was skewed, with pillows and empty beer bottles littering the floor. But that only took a brief second of his attention. In front of him, sitting square on the bed in nothing but an over-sized Blasto tank top was his Sarita.  
  
She glanced up, her blue eyes blown wide in surprise. Her cheeks were flushed, probably from too much alcohol, and the dark circles showed just how little she’d been sleeping. But what really caught his attention was the white belt knotted around her upper arm, and the syringe poised at the crease in her elbow.  
  
“Reyes?”

 


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who left kudos and comments. You readers are amazing! All right! Have the second part of this little story!

Pacing didn’t help. If it did, she would have figured this all out months ago. Drinking didn’t help either, though that hadn’t stopped her from stealing every bottle from Liam’s mini-fridge. She kicked at the empty bottles as she paced, but her mind still sped past her, dizzying and overwhelming. She needed it to stop. She needed the constant panic to slow down, just long enough to get some sleep. Long enough for her to forget what his arm felt like draped around her waist.  
  
She returned to the bed, sat cross-legged in the center, and retrieved the syringe of Oblivion off the table.  
  
She was an idiot, she thought as she tied off the belt around her upper arm. She had no idea what she was doing. But that’s what her fancy AI was for, right?  
  
“Is this the right vein, SAM?” She asked, the needle hovering just above the thick band of bright blue that flowed beneath the skin on her inner elbow.  
  
“Your serotonin and cortisol levels are quite low, Sara. Coupled with a current blood alcohol level of .70, your judgment is severely impaired.”  
  
She sighed. “You either help me, and minimize the damage, or I do this blind,” she said. “What’s it gonna be?”  
  
Before the AI could answer, her door hissed open, and the last person she expected to see was in her room.  
  
“Reyes?”  
  
He stared at her, and she stared at him. His usually bronze skin was pale, like he’d avoided the sun for the three months they’d been apart. His hair was falling out of its usual coif, no doubt because his fingers kept running through it in his distress. She glanced at his right hand, and sure enough, her ring was still there. She felt a flicker of hope in her chest, and the hand that held the needle sank to rest against her bare thigh.  
  
And then he stormed across her room, a whirlwind of shocked rage and hurt.  
  
She’d never seen him like this. Reyes was always cold in his anger, his voice chilled and his face a mask of detached calm. But now she flinched away from the burning fury that radiated off him like solar flares.  
  
He tore the syringe from her limp hand. “What the fuck is this?” He asked, his voice low and dangerous. He brandished the drug at her. She tried to flinch back away from his sudden fury, but his left hand snaked out and grabbed the back of her neck, giving her no choice but to follow him across the room.  
  
He pulled her in front of him, and forced her to stare at their reflection in her mirror.  
  
“Look,” he commanded.  
  
And she did. She was a mess, she didn’t need a mirror to know that; it had been her mantra these past few months. But, she was shocked to see how much weight she’d lost. In nothing but her brother’s Blasto shirt, her arms looked too thin to even lift more than a pistol. The shirt stopped at the top of her thighs, and if it’d been anyone but Reyes she may have felt indecent. Even her thighs seemed thinner, further apart than she remembered. She was pale, and her hair was stringy with an unwashed look. When was the last time she’d showered?  
  
But beyond all that, she saw him. He stood behind her, his brow low over his golden brown eyes, and anger pulled the corners of his mouth down into a vicious snarl. After a moment, he tore the belt from her arm, and it felt like being unchained.  
  
The dam on all her numbed emotions broke, and Sara cried for the first time since that night in Ditaeon. She sobbed, and it was such a relief to feel something that she was sure she smiled, she just couldn’t see past the tears to find her reflection to be sure.   
  
Reyes chucked the hypodermic needle into her trash and then marched her out and to the lavatory. Sara heard it lock behind them, and when he released her she sank against the door, suddenly freezing. She couldn’t stop crying, she couldn’t see past the river of tears that kept pouring from her. Tears of anger, relief, disappointment, of every emotion she’d shoved away since she’d told him goodbye.  
  
He turned on the shower, and it didn’t take long for the hot water to steam up the room. They didn’t say a word as he helped her up and out of her shirt and underwear. His hands didn’t linger, there was no teasing, no suggestion that he missed or wanted her body. He was all business, and it only made her cry more.  
  
He was still angry, the set of his mouth and the creases at the corners of his eyes told her so. He helped her into the shower, and made sure she was under the water before he backed out. She stood, unable to do anything but cry under the hot water, letting it wash the tears away.  
  
She was surprised when he joined her a moment later. He’d shed his customary flight suit, wearing only his boxers and a white undershirt. On some level she was disappointed he was wearing any clothes at all, but the rest of her was just relieved that he hadn’t left her alone.   
  
His hands were firm, but tender. He spun her and washed her hair with the mint shampoo she loved. The mint shampoo she knew he still made an effort to provide to Vetra. Once that was washed and rinsed, his hands went for the soap, and he helped her return her body to something like normal. They scrubbed at her skin, as if the mixture of hot water, soap, and effort could wash away the mistakes and misery of the last twelve weeks. And still he made no advances.  
  
Of course he didn’t, she thought. No matter how flirtatious he seemed, he never really made the first move. He always reacted to her advances, her loaded words and innuendos. And now he was there, taking care of her again, pulling her from the brink of her own stupidity. Even after everything.   
  
She spun to bury her face into his soaked shirt, and when his arms settled around her, she wept. He murmured to her, his voice lilting and perfect with the pounding rhythm of the water cascading from the shower head. She didn’t understand him because he was chanting incessant words in Spanish, but the comfort in his voice was apparent. They stayed like that until the water went cold. He helped her rinse off, quickly, and then toweled her off once they stepped out into the room.  
  
“Reyes,” she said, as he wrapped the towel around her.   
  
“No,” he said. “Not yet.” His voice was cold, the anger she knew, the Reyes that put up a wall when he was hurt or upset. They were back on familiar territory.  
  
He tore off his soggy clothes, and Sara tried not to let her eyes linger, but it was a wasted effort. He was magnificent, though he’d lost some weight too. The definition in his back had faded some, and there was a sickly pallor beneath the burnished copper of his skin. And yet she couldn’t keep the heat from blossoming in her belly as he wrapped a towel around his waist, gathered his flight suit, and turned to take her hand.  
  
But, there was no warmth in his touch as he led her back to her room.  
  
  
  


He tried to keep calm, he really did. But seeing her there, on the brink of doing something so incredibly foolish, so unbelievably dangerous lit a fire in him. But now, as they stepped back into her room, that fire had cooled into something he could control. It would be easier now, he was sure. Plus, most of her skin was covered by the white Initiative towel, so that helped.  
  
The door hissed closed behind them, and he watched her cross the room to her small dresser. She tossed him a pair of gray shorts and a t-shirt, and he raised an eyebrow at her.  
  
She rolled her eyes. “They’re Scott’s,” she said. “Or they were, before I confiscated them.”  
  
He nodded, and then his mouth spoke without his consent. “Hard to be sure, these days.” He froze, and watched her reaction.  
  
She stood, staring at him, and then swallowed. She turned her attention back to the dresser, selecting clothes for herself. “I guess I deserved that.”  
  
Reyes wasn’t so sure she did. Yes, she’d ended things, but he had no room to comment on who she took to her bed. No matter how much the thought threatened to break him.  
  
She dressed quickly, pulling on a pair of tight leggings and a tank top. She sighed and ran a hand through her damp hair. “So, Scott talked to you then?”  
  
He nodded, and pulled on the shorts and shirt. They stood in an awkward silence, the whole span of the room separating them. Reyes wasn’t sure either of them could be trusted to keep their hands to themselves if they were closer. Even now the electricity between them was undeniable. But there were more important things at stake than his aching need for her.  
  
“Oblivion, Sara?” He asked, pointing to the trash can. “What were you thinking?”  
  
She shrugged. “I wasn’t.” She looked up to him where he stood near her desk, so far from her. He stared, obviously unsatisfied with that answer. “I just… wanted my thoughts to calm down,” she admitted.   
  
He shook his head. “So talk to Lexi, get a sleep aid. Hell, workout with Cora or Liam.” His volume increased, and suddenly he was yelling. “But, Oblivion? Are you trying to kill yourself?”  
  
“No!”  
  
“Then what the fuck?”  
  
“I don’t know, okay?” She tore a hand through her hair. “I don’t handle this shit well.”  
  
“You did this,” he said, and the words lashed from him like a whip. “You broke up with me!”  
  
“I know!” She yelled. “I know. And it sucks, but it was the right decision.”  
  
“For who?” He asked, because it didn’t look like it was the right decision for either of them. Their time apart took its toll on them both.  
  
She deflated. “For Heleus,” she whispered.  
  
“Because it’s best for Heleus if you lose your mind on Oblivion,” he scoffed. He paused, and a thought occurred to him. “Where’d you get it?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Where did you get the drugs?”  
  
She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I bought from a scav on Elaaden,” she said.  
  
“You’re a terrible liar,” he said. “The Collective are the only ones who produce and sell Oblivion. You wouldn’t be able to get it if not from one my agents.” There was a new rage boiling within him. When he found the agent stupid enough to sell to the Pathfinder, the consequences would be dire indeed.  
  
“They didn’t know, Reyes,” she said. Even now she didn’t want to get anyone else hurt. “I paid an outlaw on Elaaden to buy it for me. Your people had no idea it was intended for me.”  
  
“Why?” He asked.  
  
“Why what?” She looked so tired suddenly. When was the last time she’d really slept?  
  
“Why are you doing all of this?” He ran a hand through his hair. “The drugs, the drinking, the…” he paused, his voice suddenly unwilling to cooperate. “The lovers.”  
  
Her blues eyes snapped up to meet his. Her voice was just a trembling whisper, “Scott told you about that?”  
  
He nodded.   
  
She sank onto the bed, and she looked so small now that the fight had abandoned her. Reyes was so tired suddenly, and against his will his feet stepped over to sit beside her. But he was careful to keep a significant distance between them.  
  
She took a deep, shaking breath. “I know I made the right decision,” she said. “I know that things would never work between us as they are now, not without constant sacrifice and strife.”  
  
He wanted to argue with her, but she had a point. He’d more than doubled his productivity and the Collective and Port profits in the last three months. But, he still carried that ache in his chest. He still felt short of breath whenever a quiet moment crept up on him.  
  
She looked at him. “I know I did the right thing, but I miss you, Reyes.”  
  
His heart broke all over again. The wounds he’d thought were starting to heal cracked and shattered at her words. How did this woman, even now when she was so damaged and lost, have such a hold over him?  
  
Tears shone in her eyes, but she managed to hold them back. “I tried to replace you, with anyone who was willing.”  
  
She couldn’t know how much those words hurt him. If she did, she would never have given them voice. Surely, his Santa Sarita hadn’t fallen so far as to wish him pain.  
  
Her voice trembled with the emotion she fought to hold back. “But every time I closed my eyes, they just looked like you.”  
  
He looked at her, and he felt his self-control break. She was there in front of him, her mint shampoo fresh in his nose for the first time since their last shower in the house in Varren’s Scalp. She leaned toward him, so slightly she probably didn’t realize she did it. Her bottom lip trembled, and Reyes gave up all pretense of anger.  
  
His mouth found hers, acquiescing to the magnetism of her body. She kissed him back with a force he hadn’t anticipated, a hunger born of months of unfulfilled need. She climbed to straddle his hips, and his hands lifted her into place. The weight of her hips on his felt like coming home, her tongue twisting against his was champagne on New Year’s, her hands on his face were a promise that everything was right in the universe, if only for the moment.  
  
She pulled off his shirt, and he didn’t try and stop her. His hands rushed under her tank top, his fingers desperate to feel the flush of her skin, and she lifted her arms to let him pull off the shirt. Once she was free of the material one hand went to the small of her back, the other to the back of her head, pulling her mouth to his.  
  
How had he forgotten her taste? The sweetness of her tongue as it clashed with his? His teeth dragged against her bottom lip, and she let out a sinful moan against his lips.  
  
“This is wrong,” he breathed, but he didn’t try to pull away from her.  
  
“I know,” she said. Her hand snaked up his neck to twirl into his hair, and she pulled his head back to look at him. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” She smirked.   
  
He chuckled. “Your secret is safe with me, Pathfinder,” he said, his voice pitched low. She shivered against him, and that was all he needed to spin them over on to the bed, pinning her beneath him. He peppered her skin with hungry kisses, kisses that left satisfying little red marks in their wake. He yanked the leggings off of her, and she helped him out of his shorts.   
  
When he came back to lay between her hips he leaned down to kiss her, but she stopped him with a hand to his chest. Her face was suddenly serious, her mouth pursed in a delicious pout.   
  
“This doesn’t change anything,” she said. “I’m still the Pathfinder…”  
  
He nodded. “And I’m still needed on Kadara.” He smiled at her, sadness tugging down at one corner of his mouth. “I know.”  
  
“Are you sure you want this?” She asked.  
  
He let his mouth convince her that there was nothing else he could possibly want in that moment, no matter how much he might regret it in the coming weeks. He was always better at showing her than telling her anyway.  
  
  
  


Sara woke feeling more rested than she had in months. She knew before she even opened her eyes that Reyes was gone. The room was too quiet, the bed too still. And she could feel the thrum of the engines in FTL; they had left Kadara while she slept.  
  
She allowed herself to lie there and enjoy the memory of their time together. She knew now that she wouldn’t be able to replace him, that there was no one in Heleus she could run to that would make the ache in her chest go away. There was a hole there, where he’d taken up residence, and it was her fault he was gone.  
  
But, he didn’t hate her. Far from it, if his generous attentions a few hours ago were any indication. There was a pleasant warmth in her body, like residual heat from standing too close to a fire, and she felt loose and relaxed in a way she hadn’t since their last night in Varren’s Scalp.  
  
And her mind was quiet. The regret and guilt that had plagued her these last few months had vanished when she fell asleep in his arms. She could still smell the faint hint of his aftershave on her pillow, and she took a deep breath, settling even further into her euphoric state.  
  
She opened her eyes, and the first thing she saw was the flash of her silver ring sitting on her nightstand. There was no note, no message attached to the etched band. But, she didn’t really need one. She took the ring and slipped it back onto the middle finger of her right hand. It felt strange to wear it again, but it felt right too. He’d returned the last lingering piece of her she’d left with him. Sara smiled at the ring and the memories attached to it.  
  
She wasn’t sure if either of them would really ever be able to move on, but at least now they could try to move forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, this was a short little fic. I hope you liked. There is still more to come, a final fic that will probably be close to the same length as The Cost of Salvation. I'm still writing it, so it will be a week or so before I post the first chapter. I like to keep at least two chapters ahead of whatever is posted, and I'm not quite there yet.
> 
> Be patient with me, I promise you will see more of Reyes and his Santa Sarita!
> 
> Thank you to everyone that has followed along this far! This fandom is incredible, and I am grateful for every last one of you!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Reyes Vidal Week](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11317119) by [ArwenKaboom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenKaboom/pseuds/ArwenKaboom)




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